boot. She had bought new
boots for the occasion; the middle of the raised sole was still white.
Her face was a little flushed, her eyes darkened by the glow.

'Well, Betty,' said her hostess suddenly, 'when's the wedding?'

'Oh, Vic, I didn't say . . . how can you . . .' Her face had blushed a
tell-tale red.

'You didn't say,' laughed Victoria, 'of course you didn't say, shy bird!
But surely you don't think I don't know. You've met somebody in the City
and you're frightfully in love with him. Now, honest, is there anybody?'

'Yes . . . there is, but . . .'

'Of course there is. Now, Betty, tell me all about it.'

'Oh, I couldn't,' said Betty, gazing into the fire. 'You see it isn't
quite settled yet.'

'Then tell me what you're going to settle. First of all, who is it?'

'Nobody you know. I met him at . . . well he followed me in Finsbury
Circus one evening. . . .'

'Oh, naughty, naughty! You're getting on, Betty.'

'You mustn't think I encouraged him,' said Betty with a tinge of
asperity. 'I'm not that sort.' She stopped, remembering Victoria's
profession, then, inconsequently: 'You see, he wouldn't go away and
. . . now. . . .'

'And he was rather nice, wasn't he?'

'Well, rather.' A faint and very sweet smile came over Betty's face.
Victoria felt a little strangle in her throat. She too had thought her
bold partner at the regimental dance at Lympton rather nice. Poor old
Dick.

'Then he got out of me about the P. R. R.,' Betty went on more
confidently. 'And then, would you believe it, he came to lunch every
day! Not that he was accustomed to lunch at places like that,' she added
complacently.

'Oh, a swell?' said Victoria.

'No, I don't say that. He used to go to the Lethes, before they shut up.
He lives in the West End too, in Notting Hill, you know.'

'Dear, dear, you're flying high, Betty. But tell me, what is he like?
and what does he do? and is he very handsome?'

'Oh, he's awfully handsome, Vic. Tall you know and very, very dark; he's
so gentlemanly too, looks like the young man in _First Words of Love_.
It's a lovely picture, isn't it?'

'Yes, lovely,' said Victoria summarily. 'But tell me more about him.'

'He's twenty-eight. He works in the City. He's a ledger clerk at
Anderson and Dromo's. If he gets a rise this Christmas, he . . . well,
he says . . .'

'He says he'll marry you.'

'Yes.' Betty hung her head, then raised it quickly. 'Oh, Vic, I can't
believe it. It's too good to b